A Friend for Frost
by StrangeSongs
Summary: This is a sweet little story wherein Jack Frost finds a friend. It is a one-shot that explores the beauty of a moonlit snowy clearing. There is very little action-y, adventure-y goodness (and definitely no Pitch). Instead, Jack gets a well deserved break and someone to talk to him. And maybe more. I am truly sorry for the use of an OC, and promise never to do it again.


**A/N: This is a one-shot story. I will not be adding more to it, as I feel it is perfectly complete the way it is now. Also, I do not like to write original characters. I just don't like it. However, this story image has been lingering in my head for days. So I will break my personal rule just this once, for the sake of a beautiful image. I really hope you enjoy.**

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She stood in the clearing gazing at the moon, blanked wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak. The moonlight lit the snow filled clearing, casting the world in dreamy extremes, light and dark like a photo negative.

He watched her for a moment from the shadows the tree branches, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet. She was beauty in his eyes, every movement a statement of grace. Finally, without a sound, he leapt lightly to the ground and approached her, curiously yet without fear. The crook of his staff trailed lightly on the ground behind him, casually and seemingly without conscious thought. The ground where the staff touched swirled with frost in swirling crystals spreading outwards.

She lowered her head at his approach, eyes follow his progression towards her. Her face was serene and her posture relaxed, despite the distinct chill in the air. He approached, head tilted slightly to the side and eyebrows raised slightly in an expression of interest.

He stopped only inches from her, and for a moment the entire world seemed suspended, frozen still.

She looked into his pale, piercing blue eyes. "Jack," she breathed, raising her hand to touch his cheek. He inhaled sharply at the touch, as the warmth of her skin was like fire to his, but he was unwilling to pull away and break the contact. His eyes blazed with a tumultuous mix of emotions as they gazed into one another's eyes. She stared back with a look of both determination and affection.

Her eyes trailed down his face, along his nose and came to rest on his pale lips, slightly parted. She tipped her head back, in an apparent invitation. Gradually and deliberately, he lowered his head and leaned forward, closing the inches between them with exquisite slowness. He paused just before their lips touched and again the world seemed hold its breath. His eyes searched hers, looking for something in their depths; permission, perhaps or confirmation that this was her desire.

Whatever he was searching for, he seemed finally to find. With a small breath, he seemed to steel himself, leaning in quickly and closing the distance between them. It was all fire and ice, soft and gentle and full of emotion with a burn that went down to his core.

He did not notice the hand on his cheek losing its fiery warmth. Lost in the kiss as he was, he almost missed the heat leaving her lips even as she pressed them passionately against his own. It was the shivering that finally broke through his awareness, and with a start he withdrew sharply, fearfully.

His eyes clouded with worry as he looked down at her, though her eyes met his calmly and her hand never left his face. He was clearly and painfully torn between the desire for her touch and the fear that his icy power was doing her harm.

"Don't," she whispered, "don't go."

"But," he started. She gently stroked his bottom lip with her thumb to silence him. Even as she looked at him with a penetrating, pleading light eyes, her shivering increased from gentle trembling to violent shuddering. He was unable to look away, to move an inch, although his instincts were screaming for him to flee.

With her free hand, she reached out and grasped the fingers of the hand not holding his staff, pulling his hand close between them. She looked as confident and determined as ever as she placed his fingertips on her chest, gently over her heart.

"Please," she said, "this is what I want."

She tilted her head back once more, the line of her neck pale in the moonlight. He knit his eyebrows together in frustration and concern, a soft sound of frustration low in his throat, but her lips were too inviting, her eyes too pleading.

Once more, he leaned in to press his lips to hers. Her shivers slowed, growing more gentle and farther apart. He couldn't stop himself, though some part of him knew that this was wrong, that he should run. He was mesmerized by her, as though he was under a spell or enchantment. He wrapped his other arm around her body, the crook of his staff resting against her shoulder.

Her shivers stopped altogether as they kissed, and for one moment, their world was perfect.

Through the fog of bliss, he felt something was wrong, but could not immediately place it. As his sense of wrongness increased, the realization struck him and he felt as though he were falling into nothingness; for she had not only stopped shivering, she had also stopped breathing. Her chest no longer rose and fell, no heart pumped nobly within.

He did withdraw, then. He jumped back twenty feet and landed in a crouch, senses heightened to detect any nearby threat. In front of him, she still stood, motionless, hands raised and face still. The blood in her veins frozen cold and still, no life stirred her breath or blood.

He fell from his defensive crouch onto his knees, stunned into numbness, unable to comprehend immediately how everything in his life had shifted so drastically in so little time. For the first time, he had felt love, passion, and a spark of warmth in his soul that he had not felt in his immortal life. He stared blankly ahead, eyes unfocused as the reality of her lifelessness settled over him.

As he knelt, immobile and unseeing, the clearing dimmed, though he did not notice. Moments passed. He dropped his sightless eyes to the ground beneath him. He did see, then, his hands laying limply at his side and the staff laying forgotten beside him, powerless and, ironically, painfully powerful.

A crushing, overwhelming feeling was beginning to overtake him, to cloud his mind and drive away rational thought. It was a feeling of loathing, of utter self-loathing.

He looked up suddenly, a feral light of madness glinting in his eyes. Only then did he see the clearing. It was only something shockingly unexpected that brought him up short, that brought back rationality and his sense of self, for only then did he see the whole clearing had gone dark. It was strangely, completely as dark as a moonless night, save for the figure in the center. She was glowing vibrantly in the single pillar of moonlight shining down like a searchlight through fog.

As he watched the ethereal sight before him, she began to rise. In the sparkling light, he noticed she was barefoot under the trailing blanket. Had he not noticed that before? He was having trouble thinking. As her heel left the cold ground, the blanket slipped away from her shoulders. When the ball of her foot was lifted, the blanket fell away completely. She was fully suspended, shining in a radiant, cold light. Her arms floated gently to her sides. Her head was still thrown back, but now her lips parted. She drew a breath. Her eyes fluttered, but did not open.

As mysteriously and silently as it began, the light began to fade. She descended back down in her silvery splendor. The clearing itself began to lighten even as her column of moonlight darkened. When her feet touched delicately down, her knees buckled. She did not move to stand or stop herself from falling.

Though he watched motionless and mesmerized, the sight of her form slipping to the side drove him into motion. He sprang as quickly as he had ever moved before to catch her gently, the wind rushing to give his speed. He caught her before she fell very far, graceful even unconscious. The last of the light faded, returned to its normal glow, the clearing evenly lit once more.

He held his breath, desperate to hear hers. He knelt, cradling her in his arms. After one agonizingly painful moment, she drew a deep, slow breath as though sleeping. He paused, waiting for one more breath, another confirmation of life, before embracing her, burying his head in her chest to listen for a heartbeat, to feel the rise and fall of her breast. He was full of fear and anticipation, terror barely contained by hope.

She raised her hand, touching his white hair, startling him out of his silent prayers. He raised his head to meet her eyes. He stared, amazed, seeing her again as though for the first time. Her hair was now silver, shining in the faint light. His raised hand that was not supporting her fragile form, running his fingers through her strange new tresses, not dissimilar to his own snowy locks. He once again gazed into her eyes, now a deep silver-grey, like shadows over freshly fallen snow. He took her hand to help her stand, wordless in his wonder.

"Thank you," she murmured. Now it was his turn to caress her cheek. Her skin was smooth and pale, but pleasantly and gently warm to his touch, no longer the burning, aching fire from before. His eyebrows raised in question, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips.

"Why … ? How … ?" he began.

"You were so alone," she explained. "I wanted to be with you."

"But this? What about who you were? Your family? And," he asked, unwillingly, afraid of the answers, that he may still lose her but not wanting to cause her to suffer the loss of her family.

"I didn't have much longer anyway, and it was less painful this way," she whispered, "and besides, the moon told me it would be alright, that everything would turn out for the best."

"The moon … ?" They both turned to look up the night sky, though the moon had dipped down, partially obscured by the trees.

A fierce wintery wind blew through the clearing, rustling the snow and the abandoned blanket, laying forgotten on the ground. The wind wrapped around Jack in a shift of moods, tugging him upwards and nearly catching them both off balance.

A fluttering caught his eye, a splash of light and movement.

"You … " he began, but faltered. Trying again, "do you have wings?" he asked, a touch of wonder and reverence in his voice.

"Oh, wow" she breathed, turning in a circle to try to catch a glimpse of them, before laughing at herself. "I suppose I do." Her wings were magnificent, in his opinion. Translucent and shaped like the wings of some exotic butterfly or moth, they shimmered with a faint aurora borealis of color. Throughout each wing there was a trailing swirl of frost-colored vein.

"A snow fairy!" he stated with a quiet awe. "You must come to the North Pole with me, you must meet the others!" he exclaimed, joy riding high in his voice. The wind caught his excitement and bustled around, swirling snow and inviting them to move, to go immediately, a request with which they were all too eager to comply. They leapt into the sky together, holding hands, keeping one another steady as he directed her north, towards a new and joyous life.


End file.
